


The Things the Lust Makes You Do

by Smiley



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Hatesex, M/M, Passion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-02
Updated: 2012-06-02
Packaged: 2017-11-06 16:23:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/420904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smiley/pseuds/Smiley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Instead of Danny's silken hair, Claude thought of Sidney's sweaty hair falling down, looking messy, but perfect. Instead of Danny's pale lips, he thought of Sid's massive, red and puffy ones. Instead of Danny's boyish frame, he thought of Sid's chest, his thighs and enormous ass. And instead of tender, slow, lovely love making with Danny, he thought of rough, raw, animalistic sex with Sidney.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Things the Lust Makes You Do

**Author's Note:**

> Pens/Flyers series left me with so many emotions and I kinda love both of these guys (it's crazy, I know!), so I put them together. They just had that passionate tension running among them and Sid/Ovechkin seems to be outdated now :)
> 
> I finally found time to post this and it's my first fic, so I hope it won't be too bad. Also, it's an experimental attempt, I don't know if I'm good enough to write interesting fanfics, so any support will be deeply appreciated! :) I apologize for my imperfect English and mistakes I overlooked and didn't correct. Inspired by real situations and facts, the rest completely made up by my twisted mind :) 
> 
> Sentences between ‹› express the thoughts of the guys. I hope you'll like it!

Claude is standing in the shower, cold drops of water running down his entire body. He closes his eyes and the images start running in his head almost instantly. Flyers have just won the Game 6 and he is overwhelmed with happiness. Yes, they defeated their worst rivals, there cannot be a better feeling. He enjoyed every single second of that match, showing them that he was the best player right now, better than their God-like captain. 

He completely humiliated him, saw that frustrated frozen look in his eyes. That look lingers in Claude's mind. As crazy as it may sound, some part of him didn’t want the series to end. There is that pulsing tension that has been building in him for such a long time including him and Sidney Crosby. ‹Oh, fuck, me and Sidney Crosby, that sounds terrible. I would never ever let him get close to me… why the hell am I even thinking about him?› The images cannot stop flickering in his mind.

It all started before the playoffs, one evening when he and Brayden were just chilling out, being home, drinking beer and talking about some nonsense stuff. Claude asked Brayden who was his favorite player and Brayden flushed. 

“I used to really like Sidney Crosby. I mean before I joined Philly, of course.” 

Claude couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. ‹Sidney Crosby? That Sidney Crosby, that whining little kid?› He just rolled his eyes in disapproval. 

“What? I still think he is kinda cute. If he wasn’t playing for Pens…we could maybe…” Schenn stopped as he saw the annoying look Claude gave him.

“Tell me this is a fucking joke?” Claude said and then added: “Let’s change the topic.” 

Only Claude himself knew that he needed to change the topic as his mind completely agreed with his roommate. ‹Oh, yes, to the hell with that, but Crosby is cute and if he was Flyer, Claude could swear that he would make advances on him.› He quickly forgot about that discussion and feeling of being disgusted with himself thinking about Crosby as he kept on scoring and helping his team to win the matches. 

But then the playoffs started and they face Pens and the tension is coming back. There is that damn face-off and he stands in front of Crosby, their heads bowing down and Crosby staring at him intensely. That piercing look of his hazel eyes makes Claude dizzy. 

He knows that Crosby is completely focused on hockey and doesn’t give a damn about him but he still feels like there is something more behind his look. Come on, Claude, focus on your game, will ya???

Next time he sends Couturier to the face-off against Crosby, he doesn’t know why, he just doesn’t feel comfortable facing him and his dirty stare. Flyers win the games 1 and 2 and he feels so good about that, he can focus on the game and nothing else again. When he thinks the worst is over, the game 3 comes on and the emotions fly high. 

Throughout the whole match, the atmosphere among them is so tense that it might explode any second and it does as they get involved in a fight. Well, almost a fight, if Crosby wouldn’t run away scared as always. ‹Damn you, you little whiner. Why don’t you fight, why do you need to hide under someone's skirt again?› Claude cannot help himself, he wants to fight Crosby, he hates the guy, but on the other hand, he would just love to slam his body against Crosby's cause he remembers very well those jokes Talbot was making about Crosby's huge ass.

 

They end up sitting in the penalty boxes, both of them. They yell and cuss at each other. Claude calls Crosby a diving, whining, childish bitch and Crosby is firing back: “Who's a bitch for you? You are a fucking bitch, fuck you!” and Claude hates himself once again as he thinks about being a bitch for Crosby and Crosby being a bitch for him. He shrugs and decides to be quiet instead. 

However, the feelings linger until the end of the match and when Crosby gets involved in another fight (Seriously, kid, give it up! You know you cannot fight, so why are you even trying? Frustrated much?), this time with Hartsy, Claude cannot take it anymore. He feels embarrassed on Sid’s behalf and has this stupid need to protect him. Instead of letting Scott to kick the shit out of Sid, he steps between them, grabs Sid and drags him away. 

Crosby gives him a perplexed look, he didn’t really expect that and Claude feels ashamed standing next to the boards holding his rival in his arms. Even McGuire raised his eyebrows in surprise, he must have been just happy to see his favorite players hugging. It must turn him on, Claude thinks. However, he cannot deny that pushing Crosby against his body feels somehow good.

The match is finished, Claude sits down in the locker room and thinks about the game, they won again, they kicked the crap out of Pens, he is proud and happy. His hatred for Pens reached limits again and is currently enormous. 

He is completely buried in his thoughts and victorious feelings until Matt Read shouts: “Damn, I fucking hate that Crosby, he is such a fucking whining bastard. All he does is moan, fuck him.” 

“Yep, he should leave all that moaning for his bedroom.” Carle adds. 

“He must be pretty good at it with those big lips of his.” Schenn says loudly and everyone in the locker room is laughing.

Claude is embarrassed, he would love to laugh with the guys, make fun of their most hated enemy, but some part of him just would not let him. Not today. He grabs his towel and heads to the shower. 

He feels even more embarrassed as he googles Crosby's interview after the Game 3 to see what all that post-match fuss was about. The whole locker room talked about it. He is home, he is alone, Schenn went drinking and he stares at the man in front of him. He watches that interview on full screen and is mesmerized by the big, bee-stung, red lips of Sidney Crosby pouting to the camera.   
He starts thinking about other things those lips could do… and that’s the moment, the deal breaker. Claude knows he is fucked, he is completely falling for Sidney fucking Crosby. He is electrified by his dirty hazel eyes, by his sweaty hair falling on his forehead and he must admit that Crosby looks like a model even after playing the full game of hockey. 

He listens intently to everything that Sidney says and his sassy, arrogant attitude turns him on. He cannot believe it. “I don’t like him, cause I don’t like him, I don’t like anyone on their team”, echoes in Claude’s ears. How childish and stupid, but still somehow hot. He is ashamed of himself. The guy he hates the most just gave him a boner. That’s impossible. That should never happen. He turns his PC off and decides to take a walk. To forget, to erase the image of picture-perfect Sidney Crosby from his mind. 

Games 4 and 5 are a complete disaster for Claude. He feels like everything is going down on him. The team loses both of them, he feels completely weak and the worst thing is that fucking inner struggle he has to fight with. He is crazy for Sidney Crosby. After Crosby scores with his ass, ‹yes, that perfect piece of ass can score goals, how many other things can it make?›, he finds himself staring at it and having dirty thoughts.

Instead of being furious after another goal shot by Pens, he is completely jealous of Malkin hugging Sid. He cannot bear when after another goal, he doesn’t know which one, he stopped counting long time ago, Sid presses his perfect body to the body of James Neal and whispers something to him. Neal has a ginger beard and Claude cannot help himself but pretend that it’s him who is hugged by Sidney. 

He feels so stupid, he must have gone mad. He doesn’t listen to Laviolette shouting like a maniac, the place is quiet and empty in his mind, he just sees the pair of eyes piercing him from the other bench. He hears those eyes say: “Well, who is better now?” That look is full of hatred, but Claude cannot stop staring back. He is lost in Sidney Crosby, that man must have put some spell on him. 

During the whole game 5, the situation doesn’t change and Claude admits that as much as he might be a better player, he will, alas, never be as hot and sexy as Sidney Crosby is. What a beautiful beast he is. He has to stop thinking about it, so he focuses on the game instead. 

He tries really hard but that damn Fleury wouldn’t let any goal in the third period, so Flyers lose again. Claude is so frustrated he breaks his stick at the goal post. Everyone thinks he was so unhappy and furious because they lost, only Claude knows he was mad because he couldn’t stop thinking about touching Sidney Crosby and make all dirty things with him he has been dreaming about for weeks now. 

“Claude, is everything okay?” Claude looks up and his eyes meet with the concerned look of Danny Briere. 

‹Oh, Danny. I wish I could tell you how I feel.›

“Yep, I am fine.”

“Are you sure?” Danny looks really worried.

“I am sure, I just need to be alone for a while. Sorry, Danny.”

“As you wish.” Danny fails miserably while trying to smile at Claude, he is utterly disappointed. 

Claude knows he fucked this up, but what could he do? He couldn’t tell Danny that he was drooling over Sidney Crosby. How would Danny feel? Jesus, just the thought of that is awful. Claude loves Danny, he has been his only love, his man. Until now. Claude sighs. Danny has always been a Prince Charming, polite, decent, nice and generous. 

Claude knew he could tell him anything, rely on him all the time. He loved his big, dark, soft eyes, his silken hair that he enjoyed caressing as he moved it from his beautiful face. He loved Danny's figure, he was skinny and small, but Claude loved to hug him and protect him from anything bad that could happen to him. It was his Danny. He thought about all those little smiles they exchanged, warm embraces, tender kisses and steamy nights. He knew that Danny loved him from the very first moment he put his eyes on him. He knew Danny would never let him down. 

However, instead of dark Danny's eyes, all he could see were Sidney's hazel ones. Claude could swear that those hazel eyes had different shade every time he looked in them. Those eyes could express emotions so damn well. In your brown eyes, brown, brown, eyes, your brown eyes, brown, brown eyes, got some brown eyes, brown, brown eyes, Claude sang in his mind. How ridiculous was he becoming? 

Instead of Danny's silken hair, Claude thought of Sidney's sweaty hair falling down on his forehead, looking messy, but perfect. Instead of Danny's pale lips, he thought of Sid's massive, red and puffy ones. Instead of Danny's boyish frame, he thought of Sid's chest, his thighs and enormous ass. And instead of tender, slow, lovely love making with Danny, he thought of rough, raw, animalistic sex with Sidney.

He felt like the worst fuck up ever. He screwed everything big time. Danny knew he was holding something from him, having some secret affair maybe and Danny was hurt. He hurt his Danny. What a fucking idiot I am, Claude swore. 

He decided it was time to let those fantasies die. He will never ever have a chance to touch Crosby, he hates Crosby, he is mad if he thinks about him. He loves Danny, he is Danny's boy. He will end it. Those were the exact thoughts he had at the beginning of Game 6. 

Then Crosby faces him again at the face-off and that stare breaks him again. You will never ever have a chance to touch him, Claude. Why not? He thought. I have a last chance today. After few seconds of the game, Claude slammed his body to Sidney's, leaving Sid falling on the ice. Sid gave him the most hateful look. He was sure that his hatred was gigantic, but oh God, how good it felt to push himself against that body of his. 

He got what he wanted, he touched him and it looked like a hit in the game, pretty usual stuff. Crowds even cheered on him for that. He was satisfied. Determined to finish those feelings, finish the game. 20 seconds later, he scored. They won the game and Claude was a star again. 

He hugged Danny after he scored and everything was back on the track. Everything was good again. He was healed. The game was over, so was the series. Claude was happy. 

He went to shake Sid's hand for the last time and then it happened again. As he touched his hand, the shiver went down his body. He felt Sid's warmth and heard him say: “Congrats” through his teeth. Claude looked him in the eyes and his heart stopped for a while. Sid was hurt, desperate, frustrated, and unhappy. Those eyes were killing Claude. He saw every single emotion in them. 

It lasted only a couple of seconds, the handshake, but he could hear Max Talbot's words running in his head: “Everything that Sid has is huge. Huge lips, huge ass, huge…” Dick, Claude inserted back then. Now, he just looked in those eyes again and he realized that Sid had a huge heart. 

Heart that could be proud or sassy sometimes, but heart that was beating for his teammates, filled with love for the hockey, unable to hate anyone thoroughly. He knew he would never be the same Claude Giroux he used to be and seeing everything so clearly for the very first time made him understand that he would never ever see Sid in the same way as he did before this match. 

He didn’t say anything back to Sid, just shook his hand firmly, the touch leaving him weak in his knees and he skated away. Away, away, as far away as possible. He buried his face in Danny's arms and he didn’t want to think anymore. Fortunately, the series was over, the match, Pens and their 87. It was all over, finished. He is the star, the best player in the NHL right now, better than the Captain Fantastic. 

Those were the thoughts of Claude in the shower right now. Fuck the Pens, fuck their fans cheering all the time, fuck their amazing first line, fuck their calm coach, fuck their fucking Consol Energy Center, fuck them all. And most of all, fuck their arrogant, diving, whining, childish brat of a captain. I hate them! I fucking hate every single one of them, Claude repeated to himself and he felt so much better. 

 

The torture was over, the tension building in him collapsed. He could breathe again. He was free, unchained. That obsession, enchantment, you name it, it was over. Finished. Forbidden fantasies gone. He realized that he was freezing under the cold stream of the water that he chose in order to stop having dirty thoughts about Crosby. 

He grabbed a towel and left the shower. The locker room was empty, his teammates already gone. He knew they would expect him at the dinner they were having together. They will celebrate their victory, have some drinks and he will end up with Danny, making love all night long. Everything will be perfect again. 

Claude was smiling. He got dressed and stepped out of the locker room. He finally stopped struggling with his stupid inner lust and focused on the triumph his team has just achieved. 

Some inexplicable power led him to the rink. He felt like he needed to see the ice again, maybe touch it, look around, remember the cheers on him, the goals he scored, the victory and happiness. He knew that the arena was empty; he just wanted to absorb the atmosphere so he would never forget how it felt when they eliminated Pens. Those hated Pens. 

Claude returned to the arena, stood next to the bench and looked around. He could hear the chants, the shouting of his coach, feel the embraces of his teammates, the electricity in the air, the pride rising in his chest. What an amazing feeling! 

He was ready to leave, gave the arena one last longing look and then it happened. His eyes stopped at a guy sitting on the bench not far from him. He was sitting alone there, abandoned and utterly crushed. That guy was Sidney Crosby, the most hated guy in Philly. Claude couldn’t believe it. 

Sidney didn’t notice him, his head was bowed down, his eyes closed, his elbows firmly put on his knees, hands supporting his head. Claude stopped breathing for a while. He found it impossible that teammates would leave Sid alone in that arena. That hostile environment, arena where people chanted “Crosby sucks” without interruption, arena covered with signs offending the captain of Pens, arena that just buried all his hopes.

He looked devastated, his world just crushed and was shattered to pieces. He fought so much to come back, suffered from his injury for so long, gave everything to be back playing in the playoffs and now it was all gone. Seeing Sid broken like that was too much even for Claude. 

Sid was pretty good at hiding his emotions from the others, he didn’t cry as Flower, didn't break things like Geno, he didn't stare into an empty space like Jordan, he answered every damn question of the reporters. He even managed to put on a little smile. 

He didn’t want anyone to seem him heartbroken, desperate and sad. He wanted to cope with his feelings alone. Nobody knew what was going on in his head. Nobody but Claude. Claude knew. From the moment he looked into his eyes after the handshake until now Claude knew what was going on. He utterly forgot that he repeated “I fucking hate Crosby” only minutes ago. He forgot he came there to extend the feelings of triumph, personal pride and happiness. He forgot about the series. 

That tension that was building in him, creeping behind his back all the time, that tension that he struggled with, those feelings that were adding after every single time he saw Sid, they came back in a second. He couldn’t save himself anymore. The tension exploded. His feelings erupted and he was crushed. He was done. Fucked up. 

He felt sorry for Sidney, he wanted to go to him and run his hand in his hair, he wanted to caress his cheek and kiss away all his pain. He was fucking pathetic. All that time he just stood frozen there, staring at Sid with his heart melting and beating fast and he didn’t realize that Sid looked up and was gazing at him.

“What the fuck are you staring at?” Sid's words woke Claude up from his enchantment. 

That piercing look again. If that look could kill, Claude would be down in a second lying in a big puddle of blood. It was intense and full of hatred. Claude shrugged. 

“Nothing” he said and almost turned back and attempted to leave. If only he could. His legs said no. 

“What? You came to humiliate me some more?” Sid was snapping back at him. 

“No. It's you who shouldn’t be here.”

“I can be where I wanna be.” Sid was furious, but pretending to be calm as he stood up and tried to leave. 

Claude knew he was fucking crazy, but he also knew it was his last chance to make his dreams come true. He knew his lust was stupid and that he would make a complete fool of himself but there was no one to know, only Sid and he knew Sid wouldn’t talk.

As Sid got closer, Claude stepped into his way blocking him from leaving.

“What the hell are you doing? What do you want???” Sid was blazing with anger.

He must have been thinking that Claude was playing with him and being desperate and hurt, it made him completely mad. Claude didn’t say anything, he just stepped one step closer to Sid and pushed him to the wall. Sid now couldn’t leave without Claude stepping away. 

He was furious, didn’t know what was going on, but as he felt Claude coming closer to him, he felt strangely excited. He hated to admit it but his rage was calming down and feeling Claude this close was kinda pleasant. Then he remembered who Claude really was and he knew he must at least pretend that he was furious.

“I…” Claude wanted to say something but he didn’t know what and how. 

“You what? Are the best player? You won the series? You want to rub it in my face again??? Okay, mission accomplished, I got it. Now step away and let me go.” Sid hissed. 

Claude wanted to be nice when he saw how Sid suffered and how hurt he was, but after all those nasty remarks snapped at him, he couldn’t help himself but hate the whining bastard again. However, it didn’t stop his growing lust. Not a tiny little bit. 

He moved to Sid, looked into his eyes and whispered: “You are right I fucking hate you.” 

Sid was perplexed. He was losing it. He had no idea what was going on. Was this some sick joke? Or a bet? Claude advanced. Now or never, he thought. 

“I hate you like no other hockey player. But oh God, I want you so,” he paused dramatically “so badly.” 

The last words were pronounced with Claude's lips brushing against Sid's ones. His hand followed his words and he slid it down Sid's back. 

If Sid was perplexed at the beginning, he didn’t understand anything now. He was just staring, his eyes wide and his lips slightly parted, his breath getting quicker. He couldn’t believe what was going on. If that was a dream, it was a really disgusting one and he had better wake up as soon as possible. 

He closed his eyes and opened them again. Fuck, it wasn’t a dream. Claude was still there, his body pressing against Sid's, his hand on Sid's back, his lips glued to his face. What the fuck? Sid's mind was rotating, he was thinking really hard. ‹This is impossible, he is a fucking Flyer, I am a Penguin. Captain of Pens. We are supposed to hate each other, wait, we do, hate each other. So how come?› As much as he still hated to admit it, he was slowly losing it. 

The supposed hatred hasn’t been present for a long time now and he was falling into the sweet trap named Claude Giroux. That sweet trap with profound brown eyes that were staring at him in such a dirty way, that awesome fluffy hair Sid desired to touch and those perfect lips curving in that cocky smirk that Sid fucking hated, but that also made him feel so weak. 

He felt Claude's chest touching his own, his breath on his jaw, his hand sliding to his ass and it felt so weird. But oh, so good. He tried to recover the last remnants of his senses and protest.   
“Wait, is this some fucking joke? What are you doing? Are you mad? You are a Flyer, you shouldn’t be, I mean how can you even find me attractive, have you lost your senses, you said you hate me…”

Claude was so frustrated with Sid's gibbering that he knew he had to stop him. His hands finally cupped Sid's firm ass and it was such a great feeling that he let everything go. All he wanted right now was to forget everything about hockey, NHL, Stanley Cup, playoffs, Flyers and Pens and just enjoy that gorgeous man standing in front of him. He didn’t wait any more.

He leaned to Sid and kissed him. Sid lost the grip of the whole situation. All he felt was Claude's lips on his, his hands on his ass, his rapid breath and post-shower smell. He closed his eyes and parted his lips and Claude exploded. Their kiss was rough and deep, it wasn’t the sweet, tender kissing he knew from being with Danny. 

Their tongues were wrapped around each other, battling in their mouths, so there wouldn’t be a single spot left dry. Sid's lips were amazing, full and juicy, the exact way Claude has been imagining them for weeks. The erotic tension in that arena was indescribable, the sparks flying around the place. If somebody knew, if somebody saw them, what a mess it would be.

Sid fell under the spell of Claude and ran his hands on his face, bringing him closer, pressing him to his body even tighter, leaning deeper to the kiss. It was a challenge to stay steady, so Sid was glad he had a wall behind him. Claude was still squeezing Sid's perfect ass, running his hands up and down, massaging his thighs as well. His arousal was reaching its limits. 

He has had sex with many people in his life, but he has never been this hard. He was so turned on just by touching Sidney and kissing his perfect lips that he couldn’t hold it anymore. He kept on biting on Sid’s bottom lip, licking into his mouth and when Sid started to moan, he was reaching the peek.

He knew he had to start doing something else, otherwise he would come only from watching and hearing Sid. He didn’t want Sid to tell people that he endured even less than poor Jeff Skinner, Sid was still his worst rival and that gossip wouldn’t be nice at all, so he interrupted the kiss. 

Sid froze, opened his eyes and looked at Claude. His eyes said: “What the fuck? Why did you stop?” They were both panting heavily, their bodies glued together, their hard dicks rubbing against each other. Claude didn’t want this to stop so he moved his hands up and put Sid's shirt off. 

Sid didn’t say anything, he was completely overwhelmed and didn’t even know what to say or feel. Other than feeling hornier than a dog anyways. He was breathing rapidly, his lips were trembling, eyes watching Claude's hands sliding down to his ass again. 

Sid loved when anyone touched his ass. It might have been some weird fetish or obsession but it turned him on more than anything else and Claude had magic hands on the ice and off as well, so it seems. Claude kissed Sid roughly one more time, leaving him breathless and shaking with excitement and then he started kissing and licking tentatively his face and his chest. 

Sid was losing the balance, if not for Claude's firm grip of his ass and hips, he would be melted in a puddle. The blood in his veins was boiling, the flame of passion burning his body, cooled down only in places where Claude's tongue left wet marks. Claude kissed Sid's jaw, he nibbled on his neck and shoulder, licked his collarbone and started to suck on his nipple. 

He didn’t stop watching Sid's face and it aroused him even more cause Sid was biting his lips, moaning all the time, his eyes closed and his body shaking with pleasure. That wave of pleasure reached Claude as well and he felt the heat of Sid's body transferring to his own. Sid was quickly reaching the edge of ecstasy so Claude decided to hurry it up.

He wanted their sex to be raw and rough so he pulled Sid's pants and boxers down without any hesitation or warning and stroke Sid's hard dick with his hand. Max was right, Sid's dick was kinda huge. Claude enjoyed the view as he lowered down to his knees and he enjoyed seeing the reactions of Pens captain as well. Not a single shiver escaped his attention. 

He gave Sid's dick few more rough strokes as he kissed his inner thighs. Those perfectly sculpted thighs. Claude was sure that Sid had the greatest legs in whole universe. Sid was riding the wave of pleasure, getting closer and closer to reaching the orgasm when Claude suddenly stopped. 

He opened his eyes and looked down at Claude. That's exactly what Claude wanted. He gave him a dirty look and before Sid said anything, he licked the whole length of his dick.

“So…” Claude said “Who is the fucking orange bitch now, eh?” 

Sid was breathing hard, trying to find some good answer. He didn’t find any and just moaned instead. Claude was smiling again. He licked Sid's dick again, slowly, painfully slowly. That is a fucking torture, Sid thought.

“Look at how that orange bitch turned you on…unfuckingbelievable”, Claude had that fucking hot smirk on his lips again. 

Sid wanted to slap his face really hard, but he couldn’t do it being afraid that Claude would leave him there and didn’t finish him off. Claude had Sid where he wanted to have him, so he finally took his dick into his mouth and sucked on it really hard. 

He licked Sid attentively, ran his tongue on the throbbing veins, sucked on the head of Sid’s cock, trying to remember his taste. Sid's mind exploded. He was pretty close to coming so he pulled Claude's hair and thrusted in his mouth at a steady pace. He seemed desperate when Claude stopped again. 

“Pulling the hair, that’s what you Pens are really good at…Poor Hartsy knows the best.” Claude was almost laughing.

“I swear if you don’t stop teasing me, Giroux…” Sid stopped in the middle of the sentence as Claude was sucking him off again and he couldn’t speak anymore. 

Claude decided not to be nice and gentle, he sucked Sid quickly, roughly, set the speedy rhythm and he even added few gentle bites. Sid was surprised how fucking great it felt. When Claude felt that Sid was coming, he stopped again and watched Sid being left there moments from coming.

What a cliffhanger, he thought amusingly. Sid wanted to kill Claude, fucking Flyer he was. 

“So, will you beg me to finish you off or should I leave it like this?” Claude winked at Sid, his hand gripping Sid's dick firmly preventing him from coming. 

Sid swore under his breath. Claude immensely enjoyed the situation he was in. It was damn pleasant and he could torture Sidney as well. 

“Claude, please…” 

“Is it Claude now? No more fucking bitch?”

“Oh fuck, Claude, I beg you…come on…” 

“You want the fucking Flyer to finish you off?” 

“Yes, please…” 

That was enough of torture, Claude decided. He stroked Sid's dick few more times, then took him in, he learned on Danny how to deep-throat a guy and once Sid felt his dick being entirely inside Claude's mouth, his tongue pushing against the slid and running around it, he lost it. 

His orgasm was so strong that he had to catch the wall behind him, spasms of pleasure running through his entire body. He let out one long loud moan and he was sure it was louder than “nananana goodbye” performed by the Philly fans before as it echoed in the empty arena. Claude swallowed every single drop, licked Sid's dick again and gave him a victorious smile. 

Sid was back on the track, adrenaline running high, but his lost senses being back.   
“So you wanna play, right?” 

You will see something than, bitch, he thought. Claude expected anything but not what was going to come. Sid put him up and leaned to kiss him. The kiss was so rough and deep and long that Claude could swear he could feel a small trickle of blood in his mouth. His lips were completely swollen and bruised and Sid just gave him a dirty look. 

Claude was gasping, Sid was far from being soft as Danny was. He didn’t think he could be such a hard lover, but he had to admit he kinda enjoyed it. 

“Well, your turn, captain…” Claude said with a touch of arrogance and that only added fuel to Sid's already flaming fire.

Sid pushed, what pushed, he slammed Claude to the wall without warning and tore down his shirt. Yes, tore down. ‹He must have a plenty of those pink shirts anyway, he wears them all damn time. When did I even start noticing? Whatever, okay, pink suits him, his ginger curls look shinier. Fuck, Sid, stop thinking.›

He didn’t want to play with Claude, he pulled his hair, cupped his head and kissed him roughly again, biting his bottom lip and leaving marks on his neck. He would never give him butterfly kisses, what is he, a fucking kid? Well, sort of, but he still hates that nickname, time to get rid of it. 

He didn’t stop, but being encouraged by Claude's moaning, his hands moved down and stroke Claude's dick through the fabric. Then he started biting on Claude's collar bone and chest. Claude was becoming dizzy and his breathing was faster than ever. He never wanted someone to fuck him so badly. 

Sid knew what he was doing and as if he knew to read the thoughts as well, he pulled Claude's pants down and grabbed his dick. Roughly again. He gave him few hard, quick strokes and then he started licking and lightly biting his balls. Claude felt like passing out.

“Turn around!” Sid commanded. 

Claude loved him being the boss. Sassy Sid, oh how he loved it! 

“You are not a fucking crybaby, you are a fucking hero Claude Giroux. Alpha male of Philadephia. You can take more than I do” Sid hissed, his hot breath right next to Claude's lips, sending goose bumps down his body. 

Being a fierce commander and a feisty boss turned Sid on. He was hard again, hard as a rock. He pushed Claude to the wall and without any warning moved his dick between his thighs, his hands running wild on Claude’s back, massaging his muscles. 

“Wait” Claude said.

“Shut up, Giroux. You are not going to whine, are you?” Sid was enjoying his role for sure. 

“No, I won't. Come on, Sid, take me. Come on, do it finally. Don’t be a baby.” 

The word “baby” send Sid over the edge and he pushed his dick in Claude mercilessly. He wasn’t thinking about how experienced Claude could be, he heard the rumors about him and Briere, so judging by that, he should know what to expect. No fingers, no warnings, no lube, just the saliva and already leaking pre-cum, cause, yes having Claude pinned in front of him turned Sid on a lot. 

‹Roughly as the orange bitch likes it.› Claude knew he would be sore as hell the next day and it would be hard to explain some things. He could only be happy that they had day off. But did he love that feeling of Sidney Crosby fucking him wild and raw. He never had sex like that and he will never forget that feeling, the end of the world could come and he wouldn't mind. 

Sid kept on fucking Claude roughly, deeply, hardly. His hands were running up and down Claude's body, he pressed his chest to Claude's back and kissed him on the neck. He could smell his body, feel his heat and it was driving him crazy. 

“Now, tell me… is this how a crybaby fucks?” he snapped at Claude. 

“Oh fuck, no…” Claude could barely reply, the only sounds leaving his mouth being loud moans and growls. 

“Remember Giroux this is how whining” deep thrust “little” even deeper one “childish” Claude already knew another deep thrust would follow “immature” Claude was climbing the wall with pleasure or so it seemed “crybaby” one more… “fucksssss” 

The last deep thrust sent Sid over the edge and he was shaking with orgasm again. Claude could feel himself being filled with Sid's cum and he loved that feeling. When he thought that was enough for him to collapse, Sid turned him around, sweetly kissed him and then started sucking on his dick so professionally that he could have been compared with any porn actress. Anyone who said he was a kid with a boring sexual life must have been very wrong, Claude realized. 

Claude has had enough, all his dreams, his forbidden passions came true. He couldn’t hold it anymore. He came right in Sid's mouth, his gorgeous lips sliding wet on his dick, his tongue licking his hot cum. He closed his eyes and collapsed down the wall, shaking with pleasure, forgetting about the world around.

Sid took his face into his hands and kissed him again. This time more tenderly and attentively. He caressed Claude's inner thighs and Claude was almost weeping with happiness. They were both a sweaty mess, heavily panting on each other.

 

“I really hate you Giroux, look what a fucking mess I am now.”

“Fucking hot mess you wanted to say?” 

“I still hate you for winning the series.” Sid pouted. 

“If this is the result of that hatred, then I accept it.” Claude smiled.

Sid buried his face in Claude's shoulder and kept on smiling. He still couldn’t believe it. No one would. Fans will flood that arena again soon and they will never know what happened there. Only the two of them will. Every single time they will play against each other, face each other at the face-offs and slam their bodies to the boards. 

As much as they hated each other, they started looking forward to their common matches. Sid closed his eyes. Is it October yet? He thought. 

“Will you wish me good luck then?” Claude teased him one more time. 

“Oh, fuck you.” Sid punched him. 

“You might. Any time again.” Claude grinned. 

Sid just rolled his eyes. He really hates Claude Giroux.


End file.
